


the one who lives

by sojiro_of_the_rain



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Violence, Gen, Genji Tries To Leave the System, Hanzo Shimada Being An Asshole, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, POV Genji Shimada, POV Hanzo Shimada, Sibling Rivalry, Yakuza, all my favs are problematic aaaa, first thing I wrote in this fandom, for just a little bit, genji dies in this, tagging mature just in case, this has been done hundreds of times i'm sure but this is my take on it, you can start to see the slip in Hanzo's moral compass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24495853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sojiro_of_the_rain/pseuds/sojiro_of_the_rain
Summary: five times that Hanzo asks for forgiveness and the one time he doesn't(aka: Yakuza Hanzo is a big jerk and has a power complex that was nurtured by the abusive system and Genji deserved better but gdamn is it good potential for a further redemption arc that I will never be able to write)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	the one who lives

**Author's Note:**

> (italics are for words spoken in Japanese)
> 
> wrote this about three years ago so don't expect anything great. T-T

The soft rustle of faint blue silk in the early morning breeze. A distinct smell of fresh-cut grass, rice boiling over a hot plate, wet hyedua wood from the morning swim in the garden pool. The guardian omnic whirrs peacefully in the corner as it charges in the weak sunlight. Leaves brush against each other outside the structure, birds call gently. 

  
The pad pad pad of synth-leather-soled shoes interrupts the calm. The boy is five years old, sniffing and wiping tears on his embroidered sleeve, as he rushes with all his short-legged might towards the paper-shielded room inside the castle. His black hair that his mother had put up this morning is in disarray, he has a small cut on his cheek that he disregardingly wiped on his robes in his pain. Stark red blood will stain the silk. It will stain the embroidery of the dragon and rose pattern that had been so carefully placed in pale tangerine stitching around the seams.

It is for this reason, and not that the five-year-old is bleeding, that the second boy rounds the corner. 

  
“ _Genji! Stop! I’m sorry!_ ” The eight-year-old is faster and grabs the sobbing boy’s arm. Genji tries to break free, but his elder is not about to let him into their parent's room looking such a disgrace. “ _I’m sorry I hit you, let me see!_ ” 

  
Genji stubbornly writhes and presses his sleeve to his cheek once again. The older boy slaps his hand away. The silk must not stain. The five-year-old begins tears anew, no longer for the pain. 

  
“ _You must not cry_.” the older boy drags the younger away from the hut, “ _I’m sorry I hit you_.”

  
The elder boy looks much like Genji, with long black hair, deep brown eyes, and a face that is both carven in the image of their father. The elder brother starts pulling at the blood-covered robe to get it off. It must not stain, or his father will be angry. 

“ _Don’t Hanzo!_ ” Genji wails, “ _I want mammy!_ ” 

  
“ _No. You will bring di_ _shonor on our house if you show yourself to our parents_.” Hanzo lowers his voice, not knowing if the five-year-old would fully comprehend the gravity of honor, but hoping that his tone would convey that for him, “ _Let us wash this first_.” 

  
Genji sniffs as he lets his older brother strip the soiled silk off. Both boys leave the castle, padding silently towards the garden pool. Hanzo isn't skilled in getting blood out of clothes or washing clothes at all, but he knows it involves water. Genji remains silent, watching the sparrows in the trees as they flitter from branch to branch. 

  
The garden pool is unoccupied except for a few white koi fish that swim over as the boy’s shadows cross the water. They scatter as Hanzo tosses the cloth into the pond. Hanzo turns to Genji and takes his shoulders, “ _I’m sorry I hurt you. Will you forgive me, my brother?_ ” 

  
Genji’s little head nods. Hanzo gives him a solitary pat on his shoulder before retrieving the silk and attempting to scrub out the soil. As the older brother, Hanzo feels as if he had to be firm. He would not coddle Genji simply because he was younger. Genji could cry into their mother’s shoulder later. Hanzo does not watch as the younger boy wipes away his tears and scrubs the blood caked on his cheek. The five-year-old, now silent, watches as Hanzo handles the silk more tenderly than he had ever handled his own brother. 

Hypocrisy, but the young boy does not even say a word against it. He knows as well as Hanzo knows. The piece of fabric was more important than their own lives to the Shimada clan. 

  
The dragons and roses embroidered like a dance over the silk must not stain. 

* * *

A breath stopped in the lungs. A gentle pause. Then it is let out again between bloodied teeth. Tears linger at the edges of his eyes in pain as he struggles not to succumb. Genji is eleven years old, still a child, but he must not cry. Not while their father watches. 

“ _Once more!_ ” his voice calls out over the training hall, “ _Genji, are you weak my son?! Get up!_ ” 

  
Genji knows Hanzo is not allowed to help as he struggles to his feet. His brother is fourteen, has bested him in all of his sword lessons, and must not make a move of sympathy. But, when Genji looks into his brother’s dark brown eyes, he sees they are filled with it. 

  
He must not show fear. Genji gets to his feet, sheathes his training katana, and bows to his father. Hanzo follows. Their hair, black, sweeps past their shoulders. It’s two in the morning, and Hanzo can not show mercy. Genji will have to beat him if he wants to sleep. The elders are silent, watching from the balcony. 

“ _Start_.” Their father says. He is dark and imposing. The leader of the Shimada clan finds no grace in his heart. His sons must be perfect, or he has failed. 

  
The brothers take up their positions, unsheathe their katanas, pause for a moment of respite upon the mat-covered floor. 

  
Hanzo is excellent, the sword an extension of himself, his feet and hands move in motions that are akin to a dance. He is confident in his movements, skilled, dexterous; he will never handle a weapon as well as he handles his katana. 

  
Genji is eleven, wobbly-knees, growing, and his only defense is that he must not show fear. 

  
Hanzo starts slow, knowing that Genji is exhausted. He is tired as well. Sweat sticks to his back, his fingers are cramping from holding the katana. But he must not be weak. His father needs him to be perfect. For the clan...Genji will endure just as he had.  
The older brother beat the younger once more, throwing him to the mat, pinning him beneath the skill of his weapon. Genji lay there, gasping, sweating, blood on his teeth. 

  
“ _Enough!_ ” Their father calls, “ _I have seen enough! Genji, you bring disgrace to me and the Shimada clan. Leave my presence_.” 

  
Hanzo cannot help him to his feet. He watches as his younger brother rises as a warrior should, respectful and dignified. He bows, still breathing heavily to their father. 

  
“ _I am sorry I have failed you_.” 

  
“ _Leave_.” their father warns. He will not say it again.

  
Genji takes up his training katana, and only gives Hanzo a glance before exiting. The guardian omnics whirr as they follow his pace out to the gardens. Hanzo lifts his eyes to their father, still stern and emotionless. Father’s brows furrow as he dismisses his eldest, but there is also a twinge of a smile as he nods approvingly. 

  
Hanzo leaves the training room. 

  
Genji tends to his own bruises and cuts while Hanzo kneels next to his side. The eleven-year-old is quick, methodical. He has done this too many times to count.

  
“ _Forgive me, my brother_.” Hanzo mutters, as he always has, “ _I will teach you some of what I know tomorrow_.” 

  
Genji sniffs, he must not cry, “ _I am not meant to be a Shimada_.”

  
“ _No. You are a dragon Genji. You will be better_.” 

  
_“I do not have the patience for it_.” 

  
“ _Then get out of your own way_.” Hanzo breaks tradition for a moment to grasp Genji’s shoulder, “ _We rise by the steady winds of patience, not the fickle breeze of idealism_.” 

  
A pause. Genji looks his brother’s way. A faint smile.

  
“ _You can’t imagine how tacky that sounds_.”

  
Hanzo removes his hand, trying his best to smile too. Genji often did not have the best aim, or the best skills, but he had the greatest grin.

  
“ _Do not jest with your elders Genji_.”

  
“ _Was that an invitation Hanzo?_ ” his smile widens. The pain has vanished. There is blood on his teeth. 

  
His older brother laughs, “ _Wipe that off and sleep you idiot!_ ” 

  
Both boys laugh, they are just children. But their father is the head of clan Shimada, and they must never show fear. 

* * *

  
The easy-toned press of sandals against the wooden floor. A gentle clank as the breeze stirs the wind chimes by the window. The call of evening sparrows as they make their rest beneath the wisteria trees. He is twenty-two, meditating as he listens to his younger brother enter the home. 

  
A curse from between chapped lips. A bowl smashes against the bamboo matted floor. Hanzo opens his eyes at Genji’s anger and lets out a silent breath. Their father must not hear of it. 

  
Limbs steady, the elder rises from his kneeling place, and slides open the door to confront the whirlwind of anger. Genji is kicking and cursing, a bitter tempered cat, as he mutters to himself. He swings his katana in a lazy manner and knocks over a vase. A wide palm catches the priceless container, and Genji stops. 

  
He turns towards his older brother, who places the vase back on to the table. Hanzo sees red-rimmed eyes and a flushed complexion staring back at him. Genji has been drinking. 

  
“ _Oh, fuck... you’re home_.” he doesn't make a move to sheath his weapon. 

  
“ _What is the matter?_ ” Hanzo stays even-toned and quiet. 

  
Genji is nineteen, and currently failing his training. He drinks, he disobeys, he lies. He should have been over it by now. He should be better. 

  
“ _Go away Hanzo_.” Genji mutters, “ _Go and tell father that I am a disgrace. Tell him what a miserable excuse he has for a son_.” 

  
“ _I will not_ ,” Hanzo replies, and he catches his brother’s gaze. They both understand. Their father must not know, or Genji will have hell to pay. 

  
A silence passes. The chimes outside, the sparrows, the fading light. The nineteen-year-old finally untacks himself, placing his katana and it’s sheath down on the couch. 

  
“ _They want me to marry_.” Genji bites back something caught in his throat, “ _I hate it so much_.” 

  
Hanzo does not approach, but stands in the doorway, his silk robe brushing his feet, “ _You know why you must_.” 

  
“ _Yeah yeah, for the fucking clan_.” Genji slumps down next to his weapons, kneeling as if to meditate, “ _Father’s great empire. If I do everything else shit, why not do just one fucking thing right huh? Just be one more compliant pawn. Can’t he adopt an omnic to be his ‘spare’ son if he wants me to be so perfect?_ ” 

  
There is malice in every word.

  
Hanzo crosses his arms, “ _He sees greatness in you_.” 

  
“ _He doesn't see shit_.” Genji wipes his nose on his embroidered robe, with orange dragons and roses.

  
“ _You know this is who you are as a Shimada_.” the elder son continues in a low tone, “ _You serve the clan as best you may. If father sees it as marriage, embrace it with open arms_.”

  
Enraged brown eyes meet Hanzo, “ _You’re siding with them?_ ” 

  
“ _It is my duty, yes_.” 

  
Genji opens his mouth, but Hanzo steps forward, “ _I dislike it as much as you, but you’re an idiot to think it is not an opportunity. Didn’t you always say you wanted to leave home?_ ”

  
Genji huffs, “ _Ha! If I marry, I’ll be tighter to father’s bosom than ever! You think his grip is tight now?_ ”

  
“ _Enough!_ ” Hanzo sounded like their father, “ _You are drunk Genji, sleep and come to your senses_.”

  
Genji jumped to his feet, “ _You can’t tell me what to do_.” 

  
“ _You don’t know what’s good for you_.” Hanzo responds in kind, “ _You never have_.”

  
Genji lashes out, bare-fisted, drunk. Hanzo side-steps, cracks his elbow into his brother’s temple, watches as Genji kneels once more. The younger man does not make a noise as he cradles his head.

  
“ _Listen_.” Hanzo whispers, “ _You have young blood. You are an idiot. Look at yourself_.”

  
Even the breeze has stopped. Genji removes his hand from his temple. Blood coats his fingers. He does not look up as his breath heaves. He wants to scream, but he cannot. Father must not know.

  
Hanzo kneels in front of him, takes his brother’s head in his hands. He presses his expensive silk sleeve to the bleeding temple. 

  
“ _That does not mean I do not still love you_.” 

  
Both sets of brown eyes are filled with tears. They do not cry.

  
“ _I..I am sorry I hit you_.” Hanzo’s hands are shaking, “ _Will you forgive me?_ ” 

  
Genji’s throat is sticky, “ _Yes. I am sorry as well_.” 

  
Hanzo chokes out a laugh, “ _You absolute ass. Get some sleep_.”

  
The brothers rise. They both scoop the remnants of the broken bowl into the incinerator. Genji will pay for a new one. Hanzo bandages up his brother’s head, then bids him goodnight. 

  
His silk sleeve is ruined. Hanzo disrobes and puts the soiled in the wash to soak. Nineteen years have given him plenty of time to perfect the art of washing out blood. His father must never know what had happened. 

* * *

A gentle lavender scent washes over the area, thick with silence. Snowflakes like ash descend to cover the steepled rooftops. It is cold as he kneels in front of the altars. Incense, traditional food portions. Methodical, mechanical he lays them in a line to honor the dead. He is twenty-four, and both of his parents are gone. Hanzo is the clan leader now. 

The ceremony is brief, there are no tears shed. These people behind him, men, women, omnics, were only his father’s friends because of his empire. He feels the weight of their gazes on his back. He must not let them down. 

The ride home in the personal family hover-car is cold. And lonely. Hanzo nestles into his synthetic fur jacket and looks out to the city as it drifts by like the snow. 

Home is cold too. Hanzo pads quickly to the front door, leaving short footprints in the layer already there. Inside, he closes the panel behind him, sheds his coat, turns up the heating unit. His deft fingers wrap around the tapering bottle left in the cold box. His father’s best Sake.   


Hanzo heads for his room, then pauses as he sees the door already cracked. It slides open with a faint click. By candlelight, his younger brother sits, half-clothed, his green tattoo bared. Their brown eyes meet.   


Genji is twenty-one, and he has been crying. Hanzo doesn't take the time to notice. The sight of his brother infuriates him.  


“ _Where were you?_ ” his voice, deep like their father’s, deadly like their mother’s, venomous with restrained anger.   


“ _Here_.” Genji states, “ _Isn’t that obvious_.”   


“ _You were supposed to be at the ceremony_.” Hanzo hisses.   


The younger man huffs, “ _Don’t you think I want to mourn my parents in peace and quiet, and not make a spectacle of it?_ ” 

“ _A spectacle? Genji this is a tradition!_ ” Hanzo slams the bottle on top of his dresser, “ _Who do you think you are to break it?_ ” 

“ _A fucking human maybe!_ ” Genji responds, “ _And nobody notices me anyway! All eyes are on the fucking heir_.” he gestures to his elder brother. 

Hanzo snarls, “ _They all knew. The elders saw that you were not at my side to honor our father’s ashes. They were furious_.” 

“ _Fine! Let them be_.” Genji rises to his feet, his brows narrowing, “ _What are they going to do? Slit my throat?_ ”   


“ _You idiot!_ ” Hanzo yells, “ _You knew how important this was! You know the Shimada legacy! You can never turn your back to it!_ ”   


“ _And what about humanity Hanzo? Common decency! They’ve been dead for only two days!_ ” Genji yells back, “ _I can’t believe how much you idealize the clan more than our own fucking parents!_ "

The younger brother is crying, tears visible on his cheeks. His fists shake, chest heaving. 

  
“ _How dare you!_ ” Hanzo ignores Genji’s distress, anger boils in the air, “ _I loved our parents more than anything! You dishonor them with your words!_ ” 

  
“ _Then when are you going to show it Hanzo?_ ” Genji’s voice lowers, “ _You’re such an idealist, you forget the people behind the ideals. Not everyone is all stuck up like you!_ ”

  
Hanzo takes a stride and backhands his brother. The sound of a snapping whip as Genji reels at the blow. He does not cry out, holding his nose as he looks back at Hanzo. Blood drips down his lips. The clan needed them both, and Hanzo would not let them down.

  
“ _Don’t. Lecture. Me_.” Hanzo breathes, “ _You know nothing_.” 

  
The elder brother leaves the room, grabbing his father’s liquor as he does so. He knows it will go too far if he stays. Their collective anger simmers in the home. 

  
Hanzo drinks. The snow still falls late into the night, the temperature drops, his eyes remain dry despite the sorrow in his chest. He ignores several messages from the elders. He tries swallowing his pride with the sake. 

  
Genji is not asleep when his brother walks into his room at two am. He notices when Hanzo kneels next to his sleeping mat, his face obscured by long black hair.

  
“ _Forgive me_.” an exhausted, flat tone, “ _My brother. I should not have hit you_.” 

  
A moment. The rustling of silk sheets as Genji shifts over, allowing space for Hanzo. Like when they were just children afraid of the dark and the guards and the lies. The snow glides silently outside as the elder brother climbs under the warm covers. Both lie in quiet.

Hanzo mutters, “ _What I said was in bitterness and grief_.” 

“ _You have a great duty now. The leader of the Shimada Clan comes with stress_.” Genji responds, “ _We both know what it did to Father. I do not envy, nor blame you_.” he holds his brother close, hoping to convey what he meant.   


“ _I made a mistake_.” 

“ _As have I_.” 

  
The cold comes on, but Hanzo knows it will be held at bay. At least for a while. The clan would not allow for any more mistakes, and he could not afford to let them down. 

* * *

The sun, relentless, gives her rays to the baked earth. The smell of dirt, sweat, and wet synth-leather fill the training grounds. A light tink of metal against a rock as his shoe hits. Birds call to one another in the summer heat. The trees do not stir from lack of a breeze. 

  
He is twenty-three, quiet, ninja-like as he runs, katana in hand. His steps are sure, his form light and easy as he flips behind a training turret. One swing and it topples clean to the wooden mat it stands on, still beeping as if it hadn’t been eliminated at all. The rest find similar fates to Genji’s might, and he reaches the end sweating. He pats back his short hair, his chest heaving, his eyes alight. The katana is sheathed with a clasp of metal over his back. 

  
“ _Young Master Shimada_.” a guardian strides forward from the training area, his parts whirring in a silent symphony, “ _A call for you waits at Shimada castle_.” 

  
A nod, “ _Thanks Zakai. Let me shower off for a sec, and I’ll be with you_.” 

  
The omnic doesn’t nod back, but simply turns and strides to where the other three guardians keep silent watch over the grounds. Genji sees as Zakai relays his response to one of the men, who puts a hand up to his ear for comm. The young man sighs, pulling his weapons, then his training robes off as he steps into the showering unit. It was probably Hanzo calling again. 

  
Genji was right. The soft click of sandaled shoes as a guardian exits the room, leaving him with his diluted green tea, the scent of soap, and his brother on a holovid. 

  
Hanzo looks old sitting there from the Aerojet seat. His brows drawn, his edges greying. He speaks like their father. 

  
“ _I got a strongly worded message about your absence today Genji_.” no emotion, flat, “ _Again_.”

  
Genji sits back on his heels, “ _Look, I gave the elders a text telling them that I wouldn’t be there. I woke up too late_.” 

  
Hanzo buries the bridge of his nose between his fingers, “ _That is no excuse_.” 

  
The younger brother sighs, waiting for whatever lecture would come. Hanzo is twenty-six, leader of Clan Shimada, and always looks miserable. Sure, sure, great burdens of leadership and whatnot, but Genji thought his elder brother should lighten up. Smell the goddamn flowers for once, go watch a classic movie, find someone to love. Thinking about it, Genji didn’t know if Hanzo had ever had sex in his life. So uptight, so regal, so untouchable now. 

  
“ _You know your duties Genji_.” he removes his fingers from his brow, “ _I expected better from you. The elders expected better. In my absence, you attend the meetings. That is what we agreed_.” 

  
“ _I know_.” Genji ran a hand through his stubbled hair -he knew Hanzo disliked his decision to cut it off- “ _But I messed up. Can’t the elders allow for a few mistakes like regular people do?_ ” 

  
“ _A few cracks in a dam disrupt its integrity_.” 

  
Genji pauses. Something their father always used to say. A moment passes in silence. Brown eyes look to the other.

  
“ _I arrive late this afternoon_.” Hanzo states, “ _If the weather holds_.” 

  
He disconnects, hoping to stop the betrayed face of his younger brother. The holovid vanishes, replaced with the interior of the private jet. 

  
His jasmine tea rests cold by his elbow. The smell of starch and cooling conditioning. Hanzo rests his hands on his knees. The elders had not been kind. Genji was becoming a disgrace, discipline him, or suffer the consequences. Liability could not be exploited.

  
The younger Shimada liked strawberry cupcakes and the sun. He was young, an idiot, and had no regard for tradition. Too many days spent at brothels, bathhouses, bars. Too many nights spent with unseemly company. If Genji had just complied with what was expected of him... 

  
Hanzo half-heartedly called upon the wisdom of his father, his mother, the great Shimada dragons at his command. He did not want to bring ruin, misery to their father’s sparrow. Sleep found him unwilling and his head spinning with colors.

  
Late afternoon, Hanamura airport, the thick smell of jet fuel and sun-baked earth. The city is alive with vendors. Hanzo stops to purchase a four-tray of strawberry cupcakes. Shimada Castle is quiet, a sleeping facade of the criminal empire that lingers beneath. 

  
Hanzo loosens his tie to breathe again, steps inside the shadowed domain. A guardian stands ready.

  
“ _Where is Genji?"_ a quiet inquiry. 

  
“ _Young Master Shimada is in his quarters_.” 

  
Hanzo walks. It is good to stretch his legs after the flight. Genji’s door is open, he is chatting to a holovid while playing a console game. His room is in disarray, a few bottles line the floor, a haphazard dinner of ramen lies unchecked over the bamboo mats. Unmade bed, unkempt hair, lazy posture. He is young, and an idiot. Their father’s sparrow. 

  
Bitterness burns Hanzo’s throat. He passes by. 

  
The elder brother does not usually take such long showers. By now, he would have trimmed his beard, filed his nails, brushed his long black hair. He stands in the downpour, running his hand over the blue tattoo meshing with his heated skin. He thought he saw a flicker of energy. 

  
Genji is there when Hanzo emerges from his room. The conversation is clipped and emotionless: _How was the flight, Hanzo? Good, glad you’re back. I’m going to a party tonight, thought I’d invite you. Ah sure, I’ll leave you alone._

  
The elder grabs Genji’s shoulder as he turns to walk away. It is late, dark, and the younger brother’s eyes look surprised. 

  
“ _You are an idiot_.” 

  
“ _I know_.” 

  
“ _Strawberry cupcakes in the cold box. Have a good night_.”

  
He closes the door to his room before any more words are left to linger. Hanzo knows what Genji thinks; that he is strung too tight. Smell the goddamn flowers, go watch a movie, find someone to love. It was hard to do when he was raised for perfection.   
Genji was the opposite. He needed discipline, order, to stand up straighter, to not chew gum during elder meetings. A disgrace to the family name, a thorn in his side, a jackass.

  
Hanzo pulls himself into the master room, his soul conflicted. 

  
The slide of the door. The pat pat pat of synth-leather-soled shoes. Strong arms embrace Hanzo from behind. He stiffens, his instincts flinching to throw off an attacker. 

  
“ _I do not care if you will hate me_.” Genji mutters, “ _But I’ve missed you_.” he releases his hold, Hanzo turns to look at his younger brother who winks, “ _How’d you know I’ve been craving strawberry cupcakes?_ ” that pure Genji smile. 

  
Something tugs on the edges of Hanzo’s lips, “ _You’ll have to forgive me, they only came in four-packs_.”

  
The younger Shimada laughs. Hanzo chuckles. Genji might be a disgrace and a jackass, but he was his brother. 

  
Hanzo could not remember the last time he’d properly eaten a cupcake. The summer moon fills the garden with a pale light. The heated earth gives off a warm smell. The drone of his brother’s voice beside him calms the air. The guardians that surround the space remind him how close the Shimada empire is, but Hanzo has pink icing in his beard. 

  
The cracks in the dam can wait a little longer. 

* * *

Unjudging stars freckle the sky like so many dots of paint upon a black canvas. The unblemished fire of a few dozen candles cast light as if to respond to the heavens. A gentle breeze past the paper screens, the wispy smell of smoke, a rustle of peach blossoms. The training room silent as a grave. 

  
He had not slept last night. Words ring in his ears, still potent from the quarrel. They cut, flared, raged in his soul. Saccharine responses danced on his tongue and begged for a rematch. He must speak them or they would burn him to the ground. Hot and angry like flames from a dragon’s maw. 

  
The harsh rasp of metal as he puts his whetstone firmly against the slant of his katana’s blade and draws across. The guard is marked with the same dark blue as his tattoo curling around his arm. Blue like the dragon of the south wind twisting on the mural above the training hall. Blue like silk stitching. 

  
Hanzo is the heir of Clan Shimada, his father’s eldest son, ruler of an empire spanning centuries of strife. His heart is still pounding from the quarrel he and Genji had exchanged. His head is still reeling from what the elders had advised. It is his head against his heart, and Hanzo’s head has never failed him. 

  
He is twenty-eight years of age, and he knows what he must do.

  
Over the grind of metal against steel Hanzo barely hears Genji as he strides up behind him. The kneeling leader of the clan stops his work and turns the katana over in his hands.

  
“ _You have brought this on our house and upon yourself_.” Hanzo cannot say his brother’s name. 

  
“ _So you’re going to ask me to duel?_ ” Genji scoffs, “ _Over a little argument?_ ” 

  
Hanzo lifts himself to his feet, turns to look at the man before him. The younger brother has come armed, wearing silk robes with tangerine stitching, roses, and dragons. Genji had always been reckless, but breaking tradition and leaking confidential Shimada secrets was as far as he would go. He would continue to bring honor to his father’s name, even if Genji refused to do the same. 

  
“ _No. I am not_.” his voice, flat but filled with restrained fury, “ _But as the second son of Shimada Sojiro, you have the right to defend yourself._ ” 

  
Hanzo feels mad enough to breathe fire. Angry at Genji for knowing the boundaries, angry at himself for letting it get this far, angry about what he was going to do.

  
Genji’s eyes widen. He is twenty-five, with unkempt hair and lines of exhaustion on his face. He is young and hot-headed and wishes he were better. He swings his katana up just in time to block the first strike. His feet brace against the matted ground.

  
Metal grinds. Brown eyes lock between the space of blades. For a moment they breathe the same air. It is hot and filled with wrathful, unspoken words. Genji sees it in his brother’s narrowed brows; there will be no mercy in the heart of the elder. Family ties mean nothing now. Discipline, honor, they are what matter to the idealist. He will not last against it. 

  
Both their footing is sure upon the even ground. They have trained in this place too many times to count. Sweat, blood, tears have been spent here. Two dragons keep silent watch on the mural above, they have never spoken but their judgment has always been felt.

  
The weight of an empire in their unblinking eyes, their focus on Hanzo’s shoulders, their breath in his ears. He cannot turn away. He cannot shrug off the weight as Genji had. He must not fail them. 

  
The duel is a spinning dance of quick-footed steps and shimmering blades. Dexterous, nimble, Genji uses his reflexes as a defense. Powerful, excellent, Hanzo is driven by the pound of his heart. That is all it is now, his heart is a muscle driving blood and fury through him, it never was used for more. 

  
They swing, block, parry, and Hanzo is gaining ground. Genji defends himself with honor and skill, using his body along with the flow of his katana. As a river of potential, his movements are fast and liquid, changing by how the elder attacks. Predictable but sharp. A sparrow flitting from one branch to the next. 

  
But not fast enough for the gaping mouth of the wolf.

  
A slice of metal, the first blood is Genji’s. A cut, red and open weeps blood on the younger brother’s cheek. The second soon follows as Hanzo moves with his momentum, striking upward. Another red mark for his tally on Genji’s right wrist. Genji stumbles. Hanzo cannot allow grace or recovery. 

  
The third slice is on Genji’s shoulder, above the tender muscles. The wound is deep, slashing through the silk robe. For the first time he cries out. A strangled yelp. Like a bird getting stepped on. 

  
Hanzo’s heart pumps only blood. This is what he must do. 

  
The younger brother loses his footing once, twice through pain, blocks and parries slower, his eyes layered. His blood staining the silk. He is wearing down.

  
His elder does not relent, slashing at Genji with strokes like a twisted painter’s hand. Carving red across the canvas of his skin. Pain fills the training room. Ragged breathing and the pounding of two hearts as they clash swords again. Their father seems to watch through the eyes of the dragons on the wall. 

  
“ _Wait!_ ” Genji calls out, pacing backward, his katana held defensively, “ _Wait, Hanzo._ ” panic sets into his bones. He knows pleading is useless, but he must do something. His life is hot against his skin. 

  
Hanzo stalks forward, weapon held poised to strike, “ _Why couldn't you have been better Genji?_ ” his throat tightens as he observes the younger man. Terrified, shuddering in pain, one eye swollen shut, a hand pressed against his shoulder to stop the bleeding. His brother. 

  
“ _Why are you so weak?_ ” Hanzo knew his voice should have been stronger, but it came out like a gasp, “ _You cannot turn away and expect the elders to take pity_.”

  
Tears flood Genji’s eyes in anger, panic, agony, “ _What they wanted was never who I was! I could never be that!_ ”

  
Hanzo lunges and strikes low, hitting his brother above the knee. His sharpened weapon clove through fabric and skin. Genji cries out, his feet failing him as the femoral artery is severed. He keeps a bloodied hand on his katana as he cups the wound, hissing in breaths between his teeth, tears leaking from his eyes.

  
“ _Then you didn’t try hard enough!_ ” Hanzo roars to keep his brother’s cries out of his ears, “ _You were lazy and ignorant! Father saw better in you and you failed him!_ ” 

  
Hanzo strikes the other knee in quick succession, cutting deeper until he feels his blade scraping bone. Scarlet blood covers the training floor. Genji cannot retaliate nor respond as he shudders before his feet fail him entirely. 

  
Hanzo steps forward on the balls of his shoes before either can blink, drives his katana point first, the weight as Genji falls on his elder’s shoulder. Hot blood drains onto Hanzo’s right hand, soaking the hilt of his weapon, the blade buried beneath Genji’s ribs.

A shocked gasp from between lips. Genji’s katana slips from his weakened grasp, and the metallic clank stops Hanzo’s heart. His brother breathes shallowly against his ear, twenty-five and dying. It is quiet in the training room. Eyes watch from the walls. 

Hanzo finds his vision blurred, his throat tight. 

  
This was his honor, his duty. What had he done?

  
The elder staggers and drops both brothers to their knees, hearts still pounding. Genji is beyond the point of pain, his lungs frantically gasping for air. Anger dissipates like fog.

  
He sees bloodied lips move, _Hanzo?_

  
The damage had been done. The elder feels the weaker pulse of his brother’s heart and knows. He shakily reaches a hand, clasps it to Genji’s short hair. 

  
Hanzo chokes back a sob, “ _Do not forgive me_.” 

  
For a moment Genji is twenty-three, he loves cupcakes and watching the moon. He is twenty-one with a smile like sunlight, he is nineteen he drinks and lives with passion, he is eleven with blood on his teeth. He is five-years-old wiping red on a silk sleeve that must not stain.

  
His father’s sparrow. Gasping, shuddering in his brother’s arms.

  
Hanzo takes his grip away to look at what he had done. The room is beaten, tapestries ripped and stained with blood. Genji lies still. Hanzo had not even heard him take his last breath. 

  
Hanzo stands, not bothering with the weapons. He never wants to touch a katana again. He lifts his hands up to wipe away the wetness of his eyes, but his fingers are drenched with shimmering crimson. 

  
He turns away, he doesn't want to look. The room is nauseatingly still. The candles flicker silently, the stars blink without rhythm. 

One heart beats steadily in the night as he runs. 

  
A realization; the clan will never love him. Idealism has no soul. This time his head has failed him and brought him nothing. The empire built on centuries is suddenly worth no more than a grain of sand beneath his foot. 

What is anything worth anymore? 

If a man is willing to kill his own brother, what has he come to? Hanzo wipes his eyes on the backs of his hands. He stumbles to a halt in the garden under a dark moon, gasping, sobbing. Twenty-eight years old and falling apart. Eyes watch as he stands, shaking. 

The stars, the dragons, the elders, his father. They watch in unblinking, wordless quiet. He feels the weight of them pressing from all sides.   


Yet solitude suffocates him.

Genji is dead. Murdered by his own brother. Struck by a moment of pathetic anger. There was no redemption left in the world for him. He had forfeited his honor in the name of his father and had killed his father's pride. The Shimada sparrow with a sunshine smile. 

Hanzo calls out for them, the eyes he knows are watching. But the ancient dragons have nothing to say to him, his parents are gone, the guardians have turned a blind shoulder.   


_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, what have I done?!_

The elders would praise him for his actions, the clan would continue onwards as they always had. Hanzo felt sick. There was no longer a place for him as a Shimada leader. 

The guardians let him leave the castle, a satchel at his hip, a bow at his back, his hands and soul stained with blood. There would be a bounty on his head, but Hanzo did not care. His voice was empty of words, his chest dragged his breaths out of his lungs. Guilt like nausea rose in his stomach. 

Two feet hit the humble dirt, treading onwards. He turned several times, waiting to hear the soft tread of ninja-like steps behind him. But there was only the chirping of morning sparrows. The gentle clank of wooden chimes, the breeze of a sunlit dawn, the rustle of leaves.

  
One cold heart beats in the darkness he built. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not as into this fandom anymore as much as I used to be but it still hurts ;W;


End file.
